


Almost Perfect

by Laurelinde



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurelinde/pseuds/Laurelinde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hero of Kvatch takes a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Random drabble I wrote up quickly last night, trying to make myself write something. I decided to try first-person for a change, to see how that feels. Not very exciting, but the non-linear nature of Elder Scrolls games (and kind of inherent Mary-Sue-ness of the PC) make more traditional kinds of narratives about the gameplay itself difficult. Anyhoo, just trying to flesh out and finalise all of my Tamrielic heroes a bit more.
> 
> Cross-posted on Tumblr.

It is almost perfect.

Today I am in the Nibenay Basin again. It is definitely my favorite part of Cyrodiil, far away from the Marsh and near to Morrowind as it is. I am on my way to Cheydinhal again, in theory, to see what jobs Burzhas for me to do for the guild.

But the sky is bright and the Reed water is clear, so clear, with no slaughterfish, even! - and deep enough for me to dive in feet-first. The water plumes high into the air and I laugh. It's been awhile since I laughed, proper belly laughing, not a sibilant hiss of dark amusement as some ignorant s'wit threatens me with poison or drowning yet again. Caius looks up from his grazing and snorts at the sound, and as I swim he follows the shoreline, laden with all my armor as he is.

The water is too cold, really, but I ignore it. My scales are glad of the moisture after days in dusty ruins. I am getting more used to the weather here, anyway, apart from in the northern mountains. I turn on my back and there is only green hillside, sunlight through white clouds and the sound of the water and the breeze rustling the long willows.

Now and again I scramble onto the bank to gather nirnroot or fresh lavender, or to scamper up a winding path across a waterfall into the mountains. The grasses tickle the skin of my revelling feet, but it is cool and fresh and alive and sweet. My course meanders around the river, up a hillside and then plunging back into the water. I meet no other living soul, save Caius, of course, and some of the little furry creatures that live here. They are strange, these beasts; some timid and swift, some fanged and menacing, but all covered in soft hair. I find I like them well enough. They have no demands for me.

As I climb the next hill the sky darkens an all-too-familiar red. Too soon for sunset. My laughter is long lost on the wind as I reach for my sword. Another gate. They are spawning more frequently now. Two clannfears charge. I think of Cheydinhal, all the kind and cruel and gentle and foolish people within, as my sword clangs against their heavy crests and lightning sparks across their hides.

They are soon dispatched, but my work is far from over. There is no dancing in my feet as I stuff them back into my heavy boots, layer on my padding and plate, lower the visor on my helm. I pat Caius on the muzzle and stand before the fiery portal, steps somber now. I close my eyes and take a breath, and enter Oblivion. The river already feels miles and months away.

Almost perfect, today.

Almost.


End file.
